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the aboriginal races on the American continent, extending from Patagonia to the Arctic Sea, have black hair. The Danes of Europe are held to be the red-haired race; the Germans, the fair-haired race. In Great Britain and Ireland there is no distinctive color of the hair; but dark-brown is the most common in the former, and black in the latter. The ancient Gauls of France and the Caledonians of Scot
land were described by the Romans as yellow-haired race; but this color of the hair is now seldom seen in any part of the world. As the people of the United States are com-, posed of a mixture of all the European nations, their hair of course is as mixed in color as their descent; but in childhood it is most generally fair, growing darker with advancing years, till full maturity is reached.
Now that the civil war has ceased to be, and the South has settled down to apathy, if not peace, we of the North are apt to think the people there ought to be content and happy all day long. How is the fact? The misery entailed by the war, the poverty engendered by the war, pass out of men's minds, as does also the real condition of the negro, emancipated from pupilage, and compelled to think and act for himself. The exodus of the colored population from the South may or may not be the result of political manoeuvring, by which their votes, neutralized in one section, may be utilized in another; but the true and inborn reason for this exodus may be found in the poverty of the South.
The negro, constitutionally sensual as well as indolent, covets cheery surroundings. He lives in the present, with little ferment.
Though the system of slavery gave rise to terrible abuses, it had at the same time its bright aspect to an undeveloped understanding and a sensuous make«up. There was the little plot of ground, the small cabin, the long Christmas holidays, the exemption from care, the banjo and dance; and all these are lost to him. He has grown taciturn and discontented, and seizes upon any opportunity to change his position in the hope of bettering it. The colored woman does not disguise her disgust at the new order of things, and here the ill product of the old bondage manifests itself. She remembers the old time when the mistress herself looked after the children, and the old nurse carefully attended to their wants, and she herself was exempt from maternal solicitude; now she unwillingly mothers a child, and unwillingly cares for it. Her labor is more continuous, her holidays fewer and their perquisites ignored. She becomes pathetic in contrasting the old with the new. Naturally sensual, and devoid of the stimulus of the ennobling sentiment of freedom, she sinks to a lower grade of morals as her difficulties multiply. The whites in their altered fortunes can do comparatively little to help them, and the consequence is that the colored race at the South are sharing in the destitution of its people. In a religious, no less than in a charitable point of view, the whole South is missionary ground.
Our bad electoral system, which every four years converts the whole country into a turmoil of political excitement, is making sad havoc upon the morals and industries of the people, neutralizing any effort to tranquilize or elevate the very race which the civil war was designed to benefit. They cannot be permanently helped while those whose
province it is to employ them are still suffering disaster, and have not the means of fully remunerating their toil. The contrast in the situation of many old influential families at the present time and before the war is to the last degree pitiable. The planter, no longer a patriarch in the midst of his dependents, is not unmindful of their necessities, and does not fail to relieve as best he can; while the negro.no longer dependent and in bondage, is exercised by tender pity for his former owners, and with filial affection lingers about the old homestead as loth to leave the familiar »fv*. This may be unwise, but it is very human. Hence it will be inferred that only dire necessity would induce the negro to emigrate. The chicanery of the politician and the glamor of Northern gold may have done much to promote his exodus, but Southern destitution has done more.
The raid of Sherman across the country, without men to contest his march to the sea, was simply a war upon women and children, rooting up the last harvest of the perishing The following extract from the letter of a Southern woman, written at this time, gives a vivid picture of the sufferings of those who had no voice in precipitating the events of the war:
"It was not the war only that depopulated our country; sorrow for the dead, privation, anxiety, disappointment in a thousand ways, did their sad work. My oldest son was engaged to a near relative of Governor Butler, but she died while he was in the army, and her family was burned oil by Sherman. The house was actually fired over the heads of the children, for the parents had both died, and the oldest daughter took the little ones and seated herself upon a chest containing a few things rescued from the flames, and there witnessed the destruction of their home. I send you some verses written while *ur beloved city, the pride of the South, was burning; we were sixty miles distant, yet ibe'flanwi were visible. Oh, the horrors of that time!"
Again she gives a touching picture of the toil to which delicately-raised women and children are now subjected. J the helpless colored children and infirm old people ahon doned to the mercies of their old owners by negroes that followed in the wake of the Northern army, and »K .•• greatly enhanced the sufferings of the white population.
Then came the reign of the carpet-baggers, who conventi taxation into confiscation, and were like a swarm of! devouring all in their path; and now, though in a i emancipated, the South is but clearing up the debris destruction. They are being deprived of laborers to ml their soil, which is rich and productive to an astonishing degree. They have the staple for innumerable industries— mines to be worked to enrich the capitalist, beautiful rivers and long reaches of seacoast with delicious fish, and capabilities for fruit-raising to supply the world. She is not deficient in enterprise, but lacks capital for its existence. She is fast out-wearing her old stagnant pedantry and helpless aristocracy, and in religious feeling and moral sense has not retrograded to that degree so conspicuous in other seclions. Her prisons are not crowded, and the few incarcerated therein are ignorant as well as wicked—not bank directors, Sunday-school teachers, ministers of the gospel, commissioners of charities, and cultivated merchants. "The destruction of the poor is their poverty" is a saying of Holy Writ, and this is most applicable to the people of the South. S.
The Wrong Men in the Right Place.—This was aptly illustrated in the case of two men of the highest and lowest grade in an English prison. The former was the fraudulent banker, Sir John' Dean Paul, convicted of embezzling thousands; the other a pettifogging thief, convicted of stealing property to the amount of a few shillings. The ex-banker wtft treated with every consideration by the gaol authorities. He was employed in the laundry, and the utmost extent of hard labor exacted from him was the occasional turning of a mangle. He was well fed and fattened; and, considering the nature of the place in which he found himself, Sir John Dean Paul, it may be said, lived in clover; but not so, however, as regarded his more humble partner in iniquity. He was well worked, sparingly fed, and experienced none of those little indulgences which so materially alleviated the baronet's sufferings whilst in durance vile. Being of a poetical turn, the minor delinquent gave expression to his feelings on this subject in the following pungent verse, inscribed on the walls of the engine-room:
If I'd been a partner in a bank, I shouldn't be turning this 'ere crank. Our poetical thief was evidently a shrewd observer of men and manners, and probably knew, to his cost, the truth of
the old proverb, which tells us one man may steal a horse with impunity, whilst another will be hanged for looking over the hedge at it. Sometimes the law bags great offenders, as in the case of Sir John Dean Paul; but, generally speaking, if the public mind can be pacified by the sacrifice of the minnows, the big fish contrive to escape out of the net. The latest style adopted is a visit to the seashore while the Board of Pardons is holding the question of a pardon before sentence under consideration. It remains to be seen, however, whether or no
—a partner in a bank
Will be turning this 'ere crank
before the Ides of May overtake us.
City of Rome.—The largest steamship in the world, excepting the Great Eastern, is being built at Barrow-in-Furness, England, by the Barrow Shipbuilding Company, for the Atlantic service of the Inman Line, and is to be named the City of Rome. She will have a total tonnage of 8300 tons, with engines of 8500 horse-power, and will be fitted with three funnels and four masts. She is expected to steam sixteen to seventeen knots per hour. She is to be built of iron, and will be the most superb steamship afloat.
Hawthorne to Stoddard.—A letter which passed from Nathaniel Hawthorne to R. H. Stoddard when the latter was looking after office, contains this sage piece of advice, which sounds as though the wisdom therein contained might have been derived from personal experience:
"When applying for an office, if you are conscious of any deficiencies (moral, intellectual or educational, or whatever else), keep them to yourself, and let those find them out whose business it may be. For example, supposing the office of translator to the State Department be tendered to you, accept it boldly, without hinting that your acquaintance with foreign languages may not be the most familiar. If this important fact be discovered afterwards, you can be transferred to some more suitable post. The business is to establish yourself somehow and anyhow."
LITERATURE AND ART.
Rev. Mr. Dashwell, the New Minister at Hampton.
By E. P. B. i6mo, cloth. Price $/. Philadelphia:
John E. Potter 6r> Company.
We are pleased to announce that the "Rev. Mr. Dash, well," who figured so prominently in the columns of the Monthly a few months ago in the serial entitled, " The New Minister," appears in book form, very much improved and somewhat enlarged by the author. The additional matter added considerably enhances the value of the story, and gives additional prominence to the clerical gentleman so aptly described by the writer. The style of binding and design upon the cover is a novel one, and quite in keeping, we think, with the style and character it clothes. The story
itself to be properly appreciated must be read, and we cannot do better than to commend its reading.
The Legend of St. Olaf's Kirk. By George Houghton, Author of " Christmas Brooklet" " Songs from over the Sea," "Penny for your Thoughts" etc. Boston: Estes cV Lauriat.
A very interesting legend, artistically related in blank verse. The scene is located in Norway, and assigned to the year 1150. It is arranged in two parts—the first embracing the sketches of Valborg, Axel and Prince Hakon, the King's Birthday, the Spaaquin, St. Olaf's Kirk, and the Bells, while the second rehearses the Strange Knight, the Writing of the Swords, the Feast of Welcome, and the Foray. Though this is the first of the poetical productions by this author that we have seen or read, we are inclined to the opinion that his previous works, judged by this, must bear a high degree of literary merit and excellence.
. By Emile Zola. Translated from the French by
. Philadelphia: .
Well knowing the depraved taste of many renders for that which savors of the carnal, we do not propose to make the Monthly the medium through which their attention shall be called to any publication designed in its very inception and preparation to pander to just such a taste. It became a serious question in our mind whether we should notice the work at all; but after due consideration we arrived at the conclusion that it was a matter of duty we were called upon to discharge, however unpleasant and unpalatable it might be to ourselves. Our readers very well know that we have ever condemned the publication of such works of fiction as claimed to portray the immorality and licentiousness of French society life, and principally those written by that most licentious of all French writers, Zola. How any respectable American publisher, claiming a due regard for the proprieties, and moreover, occupying the position of a public monitor to a certain extent, can lend himself to the dissemination of such vile literature, is far beyond our comprehension. There can be no excuse; the mere plea that it pays handsomely does not justify the evil influences exerted upon public morals, nor does the fact that the language used is wholly free from vulgarity and obscenity palliate the offence one iota. The very atmosphere which surrounds the characters and the incidents of the work from beginning to end is tainted and smirched. There is nothing ennobling, but everything that is disgusting and repulsive to a moral and refined nature. There is not even a pretence to moral decency manifested, and the further the reader advances the viler the pen of the writer becomes.
We have arrived at the conclusion that it is about time that public attention were aroused to the fact that too much of such vile literature is being published and sent broadcast over our fair land for the good morals of our young people, and that the sooner the strong arm of the law is exerted toward its suppression, supported by a healthy public opinion, the better for all concerned. No more deadly miasma floats upon the air of society to-day, vitiating and poisoning with its fearful venom whatever it touches, than the mass of literature now published. It indicates a decadence of "ood taste on the part of the public in patronizing it, and a silencing of the conscience on the part of publishers in catering the excesses of literary uncleanliness in which some authors wallow for people whose fancy is wholly for such inartistic indecencies.
The above publishers may no doubt solace themselves with the fruits of a large sale of the work in question; but we do not see how they can reconcile the promptings of an outraged conscience to the baleful impressions made upon the minds of the many thousands of readers into whose hands the work may fall, to pollute and corrupt.
We do not presume that what we have said of the work will be the means of deterring persons from reading it; but
the greater is the pity. Would to God it were in out povm to shield the innocent and pure in mind from contact wilt that which defileth worse than "pitch!"
Kings in Exile. From the Frfnck of Alfhonie Dauatl.
By Virginia Champlin. Boston: Lee <£•> Sheftrd.
The grandeur of Daudet's artistic power is manifested in the delineation of the character of the hitherto miser, who for love and loyalty to the phantom royalty, for his king, his queen, would use his long-hoarded gold with the greatest of liberality, even with that greatest proof of true generosity, concealing from them as well as others where the gold came from, allowing them to believe as long as possible that they were but using their own. Daudet is a powerful novelist, but nowhere in his "Kings in Exile" is his power and pathos so truly artistic as when he sinks the queen in tha mother-love. We do wish that French writers would not feel it necessary to serve up daintily for us all the disreputable intrigues, the Countess Spalato, the silly Colette! It is insulting to take respectable readers into such society, and even to force us to accompany them to the baker's shop; even royalty does not gild such scenes.
Short Stories of American Authors. By Wentworth Hicginson. Boston: Let <S- Shtperd. A series of brief papers upon six of America's most distinctive writers, each inimitable in their own peculiar style. If genuises ever did, or do now exist, these writers could and can claim the family name. Hawthorne, Poe.snd Thoreau have " passed over" and joined the " silent mijotity;" yet none the less do they live daily with us in their works left behind them as enduring monuments. Howells, Mrs. H. Jackson, and Henry James, Jr., are still working earnestly, still patiently carving the memorials that shall re count their fame to future generations. Mr. Higginson,in his " Short Stories," has proven himself a good workman, and as he had the best of material at hand, his "Stones" must have been profitable to himself as they will also be '.o the reader.
"Hal," the Story of a "Clodhopper." By W. N. F.
Round. Boston: Lee & Shepcrti.
A story which abounds in wise sayings and suggesuv* thoughts, aside from its attractiveness. This is as it should be. An author, if he will, may thus educate thousands that do not intend to be educated; yet the good of the Wrtrld Demands that they should be as much as possible; and i'l stategy to that end is wise. Let them think that they at only amusing themselves; yet authors, like physicians, ibofi'd see to it that they do imbibe something that will act as a tonic upon their mental weaknesses. We wish that all the JenV insons in the country were sure of seeing tliemselres llni clearly photographed. Toadvine was the representinv; mean man of his class_ of society, as Jenkinson was of his Yet for Toadvine there was hope; Jenkinson was himself to the last. Brynton with quiet heroism and self-renunciation; yet not that last hardly, she said him n»«. but he will win the friendship of bis readers an perhaps.
GOSSIP AND NOTE BOOK.
The Proverb Of Ems. Near the city of Ems,
By the river bank fair, The mountains are lofty,
And poor folks who dwell there
Toil hard for their living.
A vociferous band, All day by the river,
With donkeys to let, stand.
When the sunshine is bright
All the ladies of Ems
You may see running there.
A ride to the mountains
On a midsummer day
And brings donkeys in play.
So the townspeople say,
That the women of Ems
That proverb applieth,
If but turned square about,
Quite as well—for the truth,
At Nahant or Long Branch
Look around, if you please,
By the blue ocean wave
Some thousands of asses
my life," remarked a traveller to a Dutch driver. "Oh nein," replied honest Hans, slowly taking his pipe from his mouth, " de miles vasn't long; but ven dey make de road de schtones gave ouit, so dey hat to put a mile-schtone every two miles. Yah, dot vas it."
Musical.—The great Mendelssohn's name signifies son of an almond. Now, if he had been born twins, would his name have been Philip-pcena? There's a nut to crack.
However successful a dentist may be, he can only be said to live " from hand to mouth."
"What number?" asked the Irish attendant of the man who wanted to see some shoes. "13, 15, 14," answered the customer, in a dazed, absent-minded sort of way. "That's quare," said Pat; "three legs and no two of 'em mates."
"Is it becoming to me?" asked she, as she paraded in the costume of one hundred years ago before the man who is not her lord and master, but is her husband. "Yes, my dear," said he, meekly. "Don't you wish I could dress this way all the time?" she asked. "No, my dear," he answered: "but I wish you had lived when that was the style."
"How came these holes in your elbows ?" said a widowed mother to her only son. "Oh, mother, I hid behind the sofa when Colonel Gobler was saying to Maria that he'd take her even if you had to be thrown in; and he didn't know I was there, and so I held my tongue and laughed in my sleeves till I bust 'em."
When to Mart —Those about to marry, and wishing to know which is the proper age, are referred to the following precedents: Adam, o; Shakspeare, 18; Ben Jonson, 21; Franklin, 24; Mozart, 25; Dante, Kepler, Burke, Scott, 26; Byron, Washington, Bonaparte, 27; Penn and Sterne, 28; Nelson, 29; Burns, JO; Chaucer, Hogarth, 32; Wordsworth and Davy, 33; Aristotle, 36; Sir William Jones and Wellington, 37; Wilberforce, 38; Luther, 42; Addison, 44; Wesley, 47; Swift, 49; Bnflbn, 55; Old Parr, the last time, 120. Now, if Adam married before he was a year old, and the veteran Parr buckled with a widow at 120, a man may wed at any age he pleases, and find shelter under great names for either early or late marriages.
Dutch Miles.—" It seems to me that you have the longest miles in this confounded country that I ever saw in
"I say, old fellow, that tailor you recommended me to is a scamp. I sent him my overcoat to repair, and what do you think the rascal has done with it? Why, pawned it!" "Yes, but that enabled him to get mine out of pawn—that's why I recommended him to you. Now, you recommend him to some other fellow, and you will get yours back."
It is related of a well-known merchant that, after making his will and leaving a large property to a trustee for his son, he called the young man in, and after reading the will to him, asked if there was any alteration or improvement he could suggest. "Well, father," said the young gentleman, lighting a cigarette, "I think, as things go nowadays, it would be better for me if you left the property to the other fellow, and made me the trustee." The old gentleman made up his mind then and there that the young man was quite competent to take charge of his own inheritance, and scratched the trustee clause out.
"I am sorry," wrote a girl to her bald-headed lover, after the engagement had been broken off; "but, with your letters, which I enclose, it is impossible to return you a lock of your hair."
Conundrum.—Why was the composer of re ii'"U Dame Blanche" like a dumpling? Because is was only Boildieu (boiled dough).
A Philadelphia girl, when she's jilted, don't seem to mint. ■* getting the sacque"—so long as it is seal-skin.
A Quid's Reason.—" Mamma, why is the sea so salt?" s>.ni little Willie. "Really, I can't tell you," answered oa mother. "I know, I know, mamma," cried he, triumph •jatlr. - its because the fishes like it."
* A young woman wants a wash," is the queer wording t ut uiverosement in the Philadelphia Ledger for March